


Shimmer

by Eriador117



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Crossdressing, Fluff, M/M, Teacher/Student, courtship fic, underage (17), wizarding rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2012-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:17:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eriador117/pseuds/Eriador117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Severus discovers Harry's secret?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shimmer

**Shimmer Part 1**

Harry stood nervously outside the shop before he dared venture inside it. His Aunt Petunia never shopped in Little Whinging if she could help it, much preferring to go up to London for her clothes shopping. Harry did the grocery shopping so he was unlikely to run into her popping into the supermarket across the road either. Still it didn't stop his heart from beating that little bit faster and the clammy hands, knowing that what he was about to do was something so abnormal, so forbidden. The truth of the matter was that because it was forbidden was one of the reasons Harry was here. The excitement was almost a tangible thing and he wondered if he really would have the nerve to do this. To go into that shop and actually buy what he'd been thinking about for years.

He was seventeen now, the Dark Lord was dead, killed by a joint Avada Kedavra performed by he and Snape and Harry thought he deserved a treat. It was the eve of his return to Hogwarts for his seventh year and he'd managed to change some of his galleons at Gringotts that morning into Muggle money and now it was burning a hole in his pocket ready to be spent. He wasn't sure there were any similar items for sale in the wizard world, he wouldn't know where to start looking and he definitely didn't want to ask Ron or Hermione.

This shop he passed every day on his way to the supermarket and every day he was drawn to the window display. It changed frequently. Today the model was wearing a black lace baby doll nightie just skimming her hips, a pair of panties visible beneath the nightdress. It looked so soft and Harry wondered what it would feel like against bare skin.

Taking a deep breath he pushed the door of the shop open, the sound of a bell jangling to announce his entrance to the bored looking shop assistant. She glanced up at Harry and gave him a false smile, tapping the counter with talon sharp nails painted blood red.

"Can I help you?"

"Er - um - I'm looking for a present for my girlfriend. Lingerie," he added unnecessarily considering he was standing in a shop that sold nothing else.

"What size is she?"

"Oh. I don't know."

"Well, how tall is she? What build? Short, thin, what?"

"Um, similar to my build, I suppose," said Harry.

"Cup size?" asked the assistant.

"Cup size?"

"For her bras," explained the girl.

"Er - um - she doesn't wear a bra," Harry glanced quickly around the room and his eyes fell on a satin camisole, "she wears those."

"I see," said the assistant, smiling faintly and Harry was sure that his whole body was blushing now. He just wanted to disappear. "Your build, you say?"

With that, the assistant emerged from behind the counter and proceeded to show Harry all that they had in stock. He hadn't known there would be so much choice, satins, laces, ribbons, plain, decorated, see-through and more. After about an hour perusing everything, he chose three fairly plain camisoles, one each in jade green, soft peach and pale cream, along with lace trimmed knickers to match, enjoying the soft feel of them in his hands. He glanced at the plastic model in the window again and ordered the baby doll nightie set as well.

"We also do stockings and suspender belts," advised the assistant. "If you think your girlfriend would like them too."

"Um, okay," agreed Harry, although he hadn't really given stockings much thought until now.

His parcels wrapped and his wallet considerably lighter, Harry made his way back to Privet Drive, his purchases hidden in a supermarket bag. Somehow he didn't doubt that if he'd returned to the Dursleys' with a bag proclaiming to have come from a shop called "Intimate Secrets", they were sure to be more than curious.

Luckily no-one was home when Harry returned and Harry rushed upstairs to unpack his things. His heart was beating frantically in his chest almost as if he'd run all the way home and for once in his life he was glad that the Dursleys never bothered with him when he was in his room. He couldn't lock the door from the inside, but he put a chair underneath the handle so that no-one could come in and emptied his bags onto his bed.

Harry lifted up each item in turn, letting the silk fall through his fingers, loving the way the colours shimmered in the light. The jade shifting like an angry storm tossed sea, the peach fading like sunset and the cream camisole reminding him of one of Florean Fortescue's ice-creams. Oh, God. Was he really going to do this? Harry gripped the fabric so hard his knuckles turned white. What was the point of buying them if he wasn't?

He stripped off his jeans and t-shirt, tugging his underwear down and stepping out of them. He pulled off his socks and stood there, naked, staring at the lingerie on the bed. His cock was already growing at just the thought of what he was about to do. Harry couldn't decide which he wanted to try on first. He looked from one to the other and settled on the peach set.

He hefted the camisole over his head and let it slip down his body. It fitted him perfectly, the spaghetti straps more decorative than really there to hold it up. The material felt so wonderful against his skin and his nipples hardened against the silky fabric. He pulled on the knickers, gasping as he felt the silk slide along the hairs on his legs, his cock twitching and filling with all the blood in his body it seemed. Harry walked over to his wardrobe, opened the door and stared hard at himself in the full length mirror attached to the door.

Harry had never been a vain boy, had never considered himself to be anywhere remotely good looking, but even he couldn't prevent the gasp of appreciation as he took in his reflection. There was no other word for it - dressed in his new outfit, he looked beautiful and he took a while to just look at himself wearing the lingerie. Looking at himself standing there alone, he wished there was someone who he could show himself to like this, but he knew there wasn't.

He conjured up an image of a tall man with dark hair and even darker eyes, fully clothed in black robes, caressing Harry through the silk and Harry shuddered with desire and a touch of fear. It was a secret that he would never be able to share. He didn't even know if the man was gay never mind whether or not he would understand why a boy would want to dress up in women's underwear. Harry couldn't stand looking at himself any longer, he snapped the door shut and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes free of tears. 

Not quite knowing why he did it, Harry wrapped up his new lingerie inside his invisibility cloak and placed them all in his school trunk. It wasn't as if he would get a chance to wear it at school, but better that than leave them around at Privet Drive for his relatives to find.

***

"Today, we will be attempting a complex healing potion," Snape told the seventh years on their first lesson. How he hated teaching. After Voldemort's defeat, he'd thought he would be able to finally reclaim his estate and do what he wanted with his life for a change. But no, Fudge was still an idiot and it was suggested, rather forcefully in fact, that of course Professor Snape would not be sent to Azkaban, but he still wasn't trusted and was effectively under house arrest at Hogwarts. His sentence was to teach children who cared not one whit for the magic that was Potions and were complete incompetents to boot. Snape was just glad that at least his advanced class no longer contained Longbottom, his marks on his OWLs too low for Snape to allow him in his class.

Unfortunately the other bane of his seventh year Potions, Harry Potter had received an Outstanding in his OWL and there was no way Snape could keep him out without looking like a vindictive, bitter man. The fact that he was a bitter, vindictive man when it came to Harry Potter was besides the point.

Snape glared at the boy in question, his head down as he concentrated on stirring his Potion, so that he wasn't even aware of it. Potter dropped diced dandelion roots into his cauldron, the mixture hissed and bubbled, giving off a noxious odour. "Potter!" he barked. "You aren't paying attention! When were you supposed to add the dandelion roots?"

"Um, when the potion turns green, sir?"

"Green. And what colour is your potion, Potter? Or are you colour blind as well?"

"Blue sir," replied the boy in a subdued voice that Snape never often heard him use in front of him. "I don't understand. It was green when I added them, sir. It's not my fault!" Oh, that was more like it, more like the fiery boy of fifth year before Voldemort was defeated.

"Are you talking back to me, Potter? Detention, my office, eight o'clock tonight."

"That's not fair!" protested Potter, like he knew the boy would. It wouldn't make an ounce of difference to Snape.

"Detention at eight o'clock, Potter. One more word about it and I will take points as well. Now, get back to work."

Harry glared at him, eyes blazing jade fire but he didn't say another word. Snape's breath hitched in his throat and he felt his loins twitch as he took in the boy's flushed, angry face. Snape found himself staring at that perfect skin and messy hair, wanting nothing better than to run his hands through it. He snarled and turned away, his heart beating like a drum in his chest. What the hell was the matter with him? He hated Potter. He loathed the boy. Didn't he?

Snape found himself wondering whether giving the boy a detention tonight was really the best idea, but he couldn't go back on the punishment now. He spent the rest of the lesson berating every Gryffindor in the room, feeling better when he took points from Hermione Granger when she tried to help Harry rescue his potion. Snape paced the room until the end of the lesson, pretending not to take notice of Potter, but his eyes were drawn to that raven head again and again.

Wondering if his hair was as soft as it looked. Wondering what girls took the boy's fancy, or boys, feeling jealous heat flare in the pit of his stomach. They would never be good enough for Potter. Potter was - Potter was -

Snape sat down on his desk, feeling the world lurch around him as he admitted to himself what he'd been hiding from himself ever since Potter's sixth year.

Potter was his.

***

Harry turned up for his detention at five minutes to eight, knowing that if he was late it would have been even worse. When Snape opened the door and motioned for him to come in, Harry did, his insides twisting nervously. He'd been having a funny feeling in his chest ever since Potions that morning, when he'd caught Snape staring at him at odd moments. The look in his eyes wasn't loathing, but for the life of him Harry couldn't understand what it was.

Harry knew that he was falling for his professor, but tried his best to ignore his feelings, knowing that there was no way Snape would ever return them. A stack of soiled cauldrons along with a scrubbing brush and a bottle of cleaning fluid were waiting for Harry on his worktable. Snape indicated them with a pointed finger, Harry sighed and got to work.

He quite liked physical work, it helped to tire him out. Ever since Voldemort's demise he was finding it harder and harder to fall asleep and when he did, his mind was filled with nothing but nightmares. As he scrubbed the cauldrons, he watched Snape when he was sure the man wasn't looking at him.

Snape was brewing a potion, his stance as rigid as a stone pillar, every muscle in his body under his control. The only part of Snape moving was his right arm as he stirred the potion, for a while Harry wasn't even sure the man was breathing, his chest looked so unmoving.

Harry enjoyed watching him, enjoying the man's precise movements. He wondered what it would feel like to have the man's intense concentration focused entirely on him and he shivered as a pang of desire fluttered in his lower belly, causing his cock to harden and his face to flush. Harry scrubbed the cauldrons harder, hoping the work would be enough to quell his aching arousal for he couldn't do anything else about it here.

Two hours later, pleasantly exhausted, Harry finished his last cauldron. He returned the cauldrons to the store room, cleaned out the scrubbing brush in one of the stone sinks and put the cleaning fluid away. Snape had finished his potion a few minutes earlier and was now decanting it into five clear glass phials, the liquid inside a very pale mauve.

Harry hovered by the man's table, waiting to be dismissed. Snape didn't speak to him until he'd finished and stoppered the last bottle. Harry felt a yawn approaching and only just managed to place his hand over his mouth in time.

"Are my detentions boring you, Potter? I'll have to think of something more exciting for you to do next time."

Harry's cock twitched as his mind regaled him with images of what exciting things the Potion master might do to him.

"Sorry, sir," replied Harry, feeling a blush creep on his skin again. "I - I didn't get much sleep last night."

"You're still having nightmares, then?" asked Snape in a concerned tone.

"Yes, sir. I thought they'd stop, now that he's gone. I keep dreaming that he comes back and kills y- and kills people." Saved. No need for Snape to know exactly who was in Harry's nightmare. He much preferred the other dreams he had of Snape, dreams that made him wake up sticky and breathless. "Sometimes I just wish I didn't need to sleep at all."

"Have you been to see Madam Pomfrey?"

"She'd just try to dose me with Dreamless Sleep. I'm allergic to one of the ingredients."

"Yes," nodded Snape and handed him one of the glass phials. "Why don't you try this? It's an experimental version I've been working on. There isn't any valerian in it."

Harry gaped at the man in front of him. "How did you know I was allergic to valerian, sir?"

"You don't remember the first time you touched it in my class, Harry? First year, a Thursday if I remember correctly. You came out in a very bad rash and were in the infirmary for three days, you couldn't keep anything down, not even water and Poppy had to feed you through a magical drip."

"You remember that?" asked Harry as he took the proffered phial.

"It's very important that I remember details like that, otherwise a student could get killed. Potions is not just cookery. It is a very dangerous discipline and you need your wits about you. I hope it works for you. You are dismissed." Snape waved a hand at him, as if he wasn't really bothered about what he'd done for Harry.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry feeling tears threaten at the back of his throat. No-one had ever done such a thing, just for him. He almost ran to the door, unwilling to let the man see him cry. He clutched the phial to his chest as he made his way back to the dormitory, almost as if he was keeping it safe.

He took a few drops after he undressed and climbed into bed. He fell asleep straightaway and that night there were no dreams.

***

"Harry! You've got to go to the infirmary!" Hermione repeated again.

"Leave him alone, Hermione, he's fine," added Ron.

"I'll be okay," mumbled Harry, despite the pain in his backside. How could he have been so careless in Care of Magical Creatures? He knew that you weren't supposed to turn your back on a manticore, ever. The bite stung like hell, but there was no way on earth he was going to go to Madam Pomfrey today. Not today. Why hadn't it happened yesterday? He would have been fine going to the infirmary then.

"Harry, don't be such a _boy_! It might get infected! You don't know where that thing's been!"

"Infected?" he asked, turning pale, envisioning parts of him falling off completely.

"I know it's embarrassing, Harry, but really, she's a nurse. I'm sure she's seen lots of stuff."

Harry wasn't so sure that the matron would survive the knowledge that the Boy Who Lived enjoyed wearing girls' underwear, but he allowed Hermione to drag him to the infirmary all the same. It probably would be best to get the bite seen to, he was just worried how he was going to achieve it without anyone seeing his choice of underwear. Why, oh, why had he worn it today?

Once Hermione had seen him firmly into the medi-witch's tender care, she hopped from one foot to the other, as though anxious to be elsewhere. Her face was red and she kept looking at Harry oddly. Did she think that Harry wanted her to stay? To see?

"Um, I'll be fine now, Hermione," said Harry. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Oh, okay, Harry. See you later."

"Well, Mr. Potter? What seems to be the trouble?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"Um - er - I've been bitten by a manticore."

"I thought it was care of them, not attack by them? Where was the teacher when all this was going on, hmm?"

"It's not Hagrid's fault!" protested Harry vehemently. "It was mine. I dropped my quill and when I bent down it attacked me and bit me."

"Oh, so it bit you on the - "

"Yes," mumbled Harry, wondering if the day could get any more embarrassing. Madam Pomfrey was holding a hand over her mouth, whether from shock or to prevent herself from giggling Harry wasn't sure. She led Harry to one of the beds and pulled a curtain round it, conjuring up a hospital gown as she did so.

"Undress for me, Potter and put this on. I will come back to you in a moment."

Harry heaved a relieved sigh. He wouldn't have to show his underwear at all, when he undressed he could just put it in the pile beneath his robes and uniform. He'd never been so glad in his life for the flimsy cotton gown. Once Pomfrey had left him, he got undressed quickly, folding all his clothes in a neat pile on a stool beside the bed. He stood waiting by the side of it, it would hurt too much to sit or lie down.

When Madam Pomfrey returned, she had a glass of frothy blue liquid in one hand and a jar of something thick and green in the other. "Drink this, Potter, it'll help with the pain and stop any infections." Harry took the glass she offered him, glancing at it warily before taking a sip. It wasn't as vile as Skele-Gro, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either. He grimaced at the bitter after taste and hoped it worked better than it tasted.

Pomfrey hefted the jar. "This is a salve for your injuries, bend over so I can ascertain any damage."

"Um, do you have to?" Harry shifted nervously from one foot to the other. To have anyone look at him _there_ , it was beyond any embarrassment he'd ever felt before.

"Yes, Potter, I do. The salve works best when applied directly to the wound, that means bare skin. Now, please bend over." The woman's tone left no room for argument. Harry tugged his gown up to his waist and leaned over the bed, resting his upper body on the bed itself and widening his stance to balance himself a little more steadily.

Unfortunately this position was one that featured prominently in his dreams and fantasies of the Potions master and his prick decided that was what was happening and he felt himself hardening against the bed. Mind you, his dreams never featured the medi-witch in any capacity and it was usually a desk he was bent over, not a bed. His prick didn't seem to care about any of that and was merrily leaking onto the bedclothes and greedily enjoyed the friction of being trapped between Harry's body and the bed.

Harry could feel himself blushing and just hoped the woman hadn't noticed his arousal. He knew it wasn't the witch's touch per se, it was just a reaction to stimulation but he felt humiliated all the same. Harry started when he felt the cool gel being applied liberally to his buttocks, feeling both aroused and uncomfortable at the touch of another's hands on his bare skin. He hoped desperately that it wouldn't take long so that he could take care of his other little problem, which was rapidly becoming a larger problem as the minutes passed.

He gripped the bedclothes either side of his torso so hard his fingers stung and he had to consciously hold himself back from thrusting down onto the bed. It was agony and he bit the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from moaning or crying out. At last, the matron's hands stopped stroking him and she patted him once on rump, forcing him down onto the mattress.

Harry couldn't help it, he'd been so aroused that he came instantly, spurting helplessly onto the sheets below him and moaning his release, beyond caring by that point. He lay there, breathing hard and shuddering, his whole face ablaze with shame once he'd finished. He waited to be berated, to be lectured, but it didn't come. Madam Pomfrey just tugged down his gown and said briskly, "There you are, Potter. All done. I'll leave you to get dressed. Come and see me if the pain lingers."

"T - thank you," he squeaked, not turning round. He could hardly face her after what he'd done. He heard the curtain swish as the medi-witch left. Harry lay for a few moments more, trying to get his breathing under control before he attempted a cleaning spell on both himself and the bedclothes.

His legs were feeling a little wobbly when he stood up, Harry bumped into the stool holding his clothes. He fell back with a thud onto the floor, landing flat on his back and tugging the stool down on top of himself. He struggled to right it and to get himself off the floor. Just then the curtain was pulled back once more and Harry glanced up, expecting to see Madam Pomfrey again.

"Are you all right - Potter?" came the voice of his Potions master as he stared at Harry on the floor, dressed in nothing but the flimsy gown. His eyes went from Harry to the pile of clothes now scattered about the floor, including Harry's choice of underwear. Snape didn't say another word. He bent down, offering his hand to help Harry up.

Once Harry was on his feet again, he helped Harry gather up all of his clothes and set them neatly on the bed. Snape still held onto the camisole and Harry wondered what the man was thinking. Was this something he found so hard to understand?

"Is this yours?" he asked softly, his fingers stroking the peach silk. Harry shivered and nodded. What was the point in denying it now? He just wondered how long it would be before Snape told his Slytherins and Harry's shame would be spread around the whole school. Maybe he could run away before that happened, but he didn't really have anywhere to go. Snape eyes were locked on Harry's and Harry felt himself falling into their dark depths.

"It's very pretty," said Snape turning away and leaving Harry staring after him as if he'd been hit with a stunning spell. Snape hadn't seemed upset or even surprised at what he'd discovered. For just a moment, a very brief moment, Harry was sure he saw something in the man's eyes. Something like a flicker of interest.

***

For the next few weeks leading up to Halloween, Harry found himself wondering even more about Severus Snape the man, rather than the teacher. A couple of times he'd caught the man staring at him during meals and in lessons, but Snape was always quick to glance away, but not before Harry noticed the two spots of colour high on his cheekbones. What was the man thinking? Was he wondering what Harry was wearing underneath his clothes? Did that excite Snape? Knowing that Harry might be wearing lace and satin? 

Harry sat down for breakfast on Halloween morning, shifting slightly in his seat as he felt the lace shift and move over his slowly burgeoning erection, delicious tendrils of arousal spiking up and down his spine. He glanced at the top table, hoping to catch Snape's eyes, hoping that the man would know how Harry was feeling just from his heated looks, but Snape was absent.

The morning owls swooped in, laden with letters and parcels from home for most of the student body. Harry felt a pang of envy and tried to damp it down. It wasn't as if he ever received anything from the Dursleys' before, so how come it was so upsetting today? He just felt left out when everyone else opened their letters and all their sweets from home. Hermione of course received a large parcel of sugar free snacks and she glanced longingly at Ron's box of sweets and tricks from Fred and George.

Just as Harry was about to get up from the table, feeling a little alone time was in order before class, a large black owl swooped past his head and perched on the table in front of him. It dropped a small white box tied with a blue ribbon onto Harry's lap. Harry's name was scrawled on the top of the box in gold letters.

Harry gaped, both at the gift and the owl. The owl sat serenely on the table, preening its glossy feathers.

"I've never seen a black one before," sighed Hermione, stroking the owl's head softly. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"

Harry nodded absently, his mind on the box. Who would be sending him a present for Halloween?

"Who's it from, Harry?" asked Ron, leaning across the table to look at the box that Harry had set back on the table.

"I don't know, there's no card."

"Open it, then," urged Ron. Hermione nodded her agreement.

Harry untucked the ribbon and lifted the lid off, to be greeted with red tissue paper. He rustled it out of the way to see what was inside. A pair of white leather gloves. Harry just stared at them, not understanding. Why would someone send him a pair of gloves? The school supplied his Quidditch uniform, which had black gloves, not white anyway. Wouldn't white gloves get dirty very quickly anyway?

"It's a pair of gloves," he told his friends, removing them from the box to show them.

"Harry! You devil!" laughed Ron. "So, who is it then?"

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Hermione when she saw them.

"What are you two on about it?" 

"White gloves, Harry. They're an intention to court," explained Hermione.

"They're _what_?"

"Someone wants to court you, that's how it's done," added Ron.

"Honestly, am I the only one who pays attention in History of Magic? We did wizarding courting rituals last month!" snapped Hermione.

"I still don't understand. What's that got to do with a pair of white gloves?"

"It's like chess, Harry," said Ron. "The gloves are the first move, to let you know that someone is interested in courting you."

"I get that bit, but what does this courting thing mean exactly?"

"Er - someone wants to get to know you better. To see if you would be interested in pursuing a relationship with them."

"What Ron is failing miserably to explain, Harry, is that someone wants to know if you would be interested in becoming betrothed to them and then eventually marriage. It's how it's done in the wizarding world. All very formal."

"But I'm not even going out with anyone!"

"Well, you wouldn't be, would you? Not unless you agreed to be courted formally," said Ron.

"But you and Hermione..."

Hermione glanced around to make sure no-one else was looking at them and pulled out a necklace from beneath her blouse. A small ring was hanging on the chain. "Ron and I courted formally over the summer," said Hermione. "Both our families know, we're getting married once we've left school."

"I see," said Harry, not at all surprised at their news. "So these gloves, does this mean I have to get married?"

"No, no, just that you might consider being courted by this person. By giving you the gloves, they are leaving it up to you as to how you proceed. If you wear the gloves, you let them know that you are open to being courted, if you don't wear them within a week, they know you are definitely not interested. If you do wear the gloves, the suitor has a month in which to convince you to become betrothed to them." Hermione patted the owl again.

"What if I don't want to get married to them? Can I turn them down?"

"Yes, but only after the month is up," said Ron. "But, Harry, you've got to be very tactful. Charlie turned down this witch once and she didn't take it well, cursed him and everything. So, who do you think sent you the gloves, Harry? Cho Chang? I heard she's doing really well at Puddlemere United."

"And she's also going out with Oliver Wood," snorted Hermione. "Do keep up, Ron. Harry hasn't heard from her since she left school, have you, Harry?"

"No. Um, there's probably something I should tell you. This intent to court or whatever, I don't think it's from a girl. I'm - I'm gay."

Ron dropped his fork, his mouth opening and closing in a very good impersonation of a landed trout.

"Since when?" he demanded. "What about Cho? What bout Ginny?"

"What about tall, dark, mysterious men?" grinned Hermione.

"You knew?" Harry gaped at her.

"Of course I knew, Harry. I'm not dense. Do you think he sent the gloves?"

"I hope so," said Harry, grinning back.

Ron just kept looking from one of them to the other. "Have I missed something?"

"Yes, Ron," smiled Hermione, whispering something in his ear. Ron paled, went red, then went green, then paled again.

"Harry no! Tell me it isn't true!!!"

"Sorry, Ron," smiled Harry and put on his new gloves.

Potions was their first lesson.

**Part 2**

Snape's heart lodged somewhere in his throat as he watched the seventh year advanced class take their seats. He had been hopeful, but at the same time he hadn't let himself dare hope. Harry was wearing the gloves and smiling up at him as if he'd just been given the most wonderful gift in the world.

"Potter, see me after class," he barked, but even to his own ears it didn't sound half as menacing as he'd intended it to.

"Yes, sir," replied the boy, frowning at his teacher, but Snape could sense the humour underneath. Harry looked up, to make sure Snape was watching, and he proceeded to take the gloves off. With his teeth, tugging at each finger and rewarding Snape with a lingering look as he did so.

Snape felt all the blood drain from his face and settle into his lower abdomen and lower still. He coughed and made his way back to his desk, sitting down and using it as shield. He was trembling, he was actually trembling at that little display from the brat and he took a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down. There was still an hour and a half of double Potions to get through yet before they would be alone.

Snape did not know how he survived that class, Harry seemed to enjoy torturing him, rubbing his quill against rose red lips, nibbling on the tip, then tapping it against his cheek. Snape wanted to be that quill, wanted to know if Harry's skin was as soft as it looked. He found himself staring at the boy at odd moments throughout the lesson, breath hitching when their eyes caught each other at it.

At last the bell rang and the students hurried out. All but Harry, who remained seated at his desk and gazed up at him with undisguised longing. Snape stood up from his chair and walked to the front of his own desk, he leaned against it and looked, just looked at this boy who had torn his world upside down.

"You wore the gloves, did you know they were from me?"

"I - I hoped they were," said Harry, flushing a delightful shade of pink. He looked like a candied rock and Snape so wondered if the boy would taste as sweet as he looked.

"So, I take it my attentions are not unwelcome?"

"No, they are very welcome."

"So I have your permission to court you?"

"You don't have to court me, I already know how I feel about you. I love you, I've been in love with you for a few years now, professor."

Snape stiffened at the title, but realised that he had not yet given Harry permission to use his name. "In that case, I think you may call me, Severus while in private, don't you?"

"Okay, Severus," Harry rolled the name off his tongue and Snape felt his groin tighten. It sounded like both a promise and a prayer. "But you have to call me Harry."

"Very well, Harry, but I still intend to court you. This is one thing I am going to do properly. You are from a very old, very influential wizarding family, Harry. If I do not court you first, even if we got married, it would not be considered binding and anyone else could claim courtship rights to you. I do not intend to let that happen. I made a mistake, Harry, a very foolish mistake when I was your age and it led me on dark paths. We will court properly. Madam Pomfrey has kindly agreed to chaperone any outings we might take."

"We need a chaperone?" asked Harry, blushing, Snape could almost feel the heat emanating from the boy's skin. "So, um, we're not allowed to do anything?"

"Before we go any further into this courtship, Harry, I have to tell you some things about me. I am not a virgin."

"Er, I didn't think you were."

"As an unmarried, unbonded wizard, I should be. The wizarding world is still very much a traditional one, Harry and it is expected that no sexual contact takes place outside of the marital bedchamber, especially with the older wizarding families, like the Potters, Malfoys, Weasleys and Snapes. However, I fell in love at seventeen with someone much older than me. Young lovers are sometimes foolish, Harry and I believed him. Believed him when he said he loved me, that we would be betrothed as soon as possible and I allowed him to... Needless to say, he was nothing more than a liar and left me the next day. My family found out and disowned me, I was disinherited, without a home, without money. I was offered shelter by Lucius Malfoy, a distant cousin and following Lucius led me to those dark paths we talked about."

"But it wasn't your fault!" said Harry indignantly. "That man seduced you, why did no-one blame him?"

"I was the one who'd brought dishonour on the Snape name, Harry, not him. As my parents rightly pointed out to me, I should not have let him do it. I will not allow you to suffer that, Harry. Nothing will happen between us until we both have bonding rings on our fingers, no matter how much we might wish it."

Harry swallowed nervously. "You're saying all those things as if you expect me to be a virgin," he said at last.

"Harry, it doesn't matter to me whether you are or you aren't, I'm not my parents. But I must insist that we refrain from anything inappropriate until we have formally courted, been betrothed and are on our honeymoon. I need to do this, please."

Harry got up from his desk and moved to stand beside Snape, staring into his eyes. Snape stared back at green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Thank you, Severus. I would be honoured if you would court me." Harry bent down and placed a chaste kiss on Snape's cheek, before whispering against his skin. "Just so you know, I am still a virgin."

With that, Harry was out the door and Snape was shaking against his desk. He only came to his senses when his next class bustled in. He'd agreed. Harry had agreed to be courted. Now the only question was, how was he to go about it? For once in his life, Severus Snape would swallow his pride and ask someone for help. He was going to need the assistance of Harry's friends. Next stop, Hermione Granger.

As he smiled to himself, Snape didn't realise how nervous he was making his students.

Snape? Smiling? Things had to be bad!

***

The very next day at breakfast, Potions master Severus Snape marched down to the Gryffindor table and handed a single red rose to Harry. At the uttered unexpectedness of the gesture, the entire Hall was silent. A few moments after Snape had returned to the teachers' table, the noise level rose to a level normally not heard before. Harry caught a few words of conversation from the other tables, the Gryffindors were still in shock and blessedly silent.

"Did you see that?"

"A red rose!"

"And he had gloves yesterday."

"Oh my God! Snape? Snape's courting Harry?"

"I think it's romantic."

Harry looked down and stared at the flower. It was such a deep red that it was almost maroon, attached to the thornless stem was a small card with Harry's name scrawled on the front. He turned it over and read the message on the reverse. "Harry, I would be honoured if you would join me for dinner this evening in my rooms at eight o'clock. Madam Pomfrey has kindly agreed to chaperone."

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he stared at the top table and nodded his answer. Snape smiled at him and lifted his goblet in acknowledgement. They were really going to do this. He and Snape were actually courting. What impressed Harry the most was that Snape had presented him the flower in public. He knew Snape was an intensely private man, for him to risk the ridicule of the students like that had to mean something.

Hermione and Ron were looking at him goggle eyed. Harry laughed and handed them both the card. "He wants me to go to dinner with him."

"That's great, Harry," said Hermione, sounding genuinely pleased for him. Ron didn't seem to know what to say.

"It's all right, Ron. I know you don't like him, but I do. I really do."

"I don't understand it," said Ron. "But you used to hate him too, didn't you? How can you suddenly say you like him?"

Harry couldn't explain without betraying the man's trust. Harry had seen a different side to Snape during their disastrous Occlumency lessons of fifth year, but he would never tell anyone else what he'd seen. How Snape's abusive childhood mirrored his own so much that he felt an instant understanding with him. That he knew that Snape wasn't truly an evil man, that he'd been led astray due to things that Harry's own father and friends had done.

Snape had made choices, bad choices, but he'd paid for them a thousand times over. If it hadn't been for Snape, then Voldemort would still be around. Harry knew he could never have done it on his own. He cast a preserving spell on the rose and then tucked it into his satchel, ready to face his classes with a heart lighter than it had been since that final battle.

***

Harry stood outside Snape's door at five minutes to eight, dressed in a pair of black jeans and a blue dress shirt. Underneath he was wearing the peach silk lingerie set that Snape had been so enamoured of in the infirmary. Even though Harry knew that the man wouldn't see it, he had the impression that the man would somehow know and that he would know that Harry had been wearing it for him.

Wiping his sweaty hands on the thighs of his jeans, Harry knocked in the Potion master's door. Madam Pomfrey opened it with a large smile and ushered him into the sitting room of Snape's quarters. Two black leather sofas sat on either side of a large brick fireplace, unlit at the moment. The room was lit by torches perched on the walls and a large candle chandelier in the middle of the ceiling.

Alcoves in the stone had been commandeered as bookshelves, occasional tables dotted about the room were full of books as well as parchment and inkbottles. Harry scanned the books, noting that there were Muggle novels and poetry as well as wizarding books. Only a few of the books in the room were related to Potions.

Snape was nowhere in evidence. Harry glanced at his watch, he did get the time right, didn't he? God, he was so nervous. The only date he'd ever had was that disastrous Valentine's day with Cho, he just hoped this one would go a lot smoother.

"Do sit down, Harry, Severus will be along in a moment." Madam Pomfrey sat down on one of the sofas, Harry settled down beside her.

"How's the bite?"

"Oh, better, thank you." Harry flushed, remembering that this woman had seen him orgasm and he heartily wished that Snape had arranged for someone else to be their chaperone. Was he going to be reminded of that day for all of the next month?

A door opened somewhere behind them, Harry craned his neck to see Snape emerging from what he took to be either the bedroom or the bathroom, but the door was angled so that he couldn’t see into the room. Snape had forgone his robes tonight too, but he wasn't going for the casual look. Harry suddenly felt terribly underdressed.

The man was dressed in a Muggle Tuxedo, with a white ruffled shirt and black bow tie. Harry was sure all the breath had left his body. Snape's hair was tied back in a ponytail and Harry found himself staring at the angled jaw and high cheekbones, assets that were normally hidden by his hair obscuring his face. The man looked good enough to eat and Harry suddenly wasn't hungry for food.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it would be formal dress. I can go and get changed..."

"Nonsense, Harry. You look exquisite, as always," smiled Snape. He waved his wand and conjured up a small table set for three. "Dinner will be ready in a moment," said Snape as he hurried out of the room again. Madam Pomfrey and Harry both stood up and made their way to the table. Harry pulled out a chair for her and she grinned up at him. "What a gentleman, Harry. Severus is a very lucky man."

"No, I'm the lucky one," replied Harry as he took his own seat. He couldn't believe that he was actually here, that he was on a date with Snape. That Snape wanted him to be here. Harry wished that they were alone, he knew that conversation between them was bound to be stilted with the medi-witch there, but at the same time he knew that Snape was honouring the wizarding tradition, that he cared enough about Harry to do so and Harry felt awed.

There was no question in Harry's mind that at the end of the month, he would agree to a betrothal, agree to be married to Snape. He was giddy just thinking about it.

Snape returned a few moments later, levitating dishes and serving spoons which he set down on the table. None of them spoke during dinner except to comment on the food; leek and potato soup to start, roast duck in a plum sauce for the main course and the lightest chocolate mousse Harry had ever tasted for dessert.

The three of them adjourned to the sofas for coffee. Madam Pomfrey on one, Harry and Snape on the other. They were close enough to touch, but they didn't, Snape keeping his distance the whole time. Harry wished he'd worn robes over his Muggle clothes. The scent of Snape was driving him insane with arousal and he could feel how heated his face was. Snape smelt of cinnamon and chocolate from their dessert, as well as un underlying smell that Harry couldn't identify, just one that he labelled as Snape. It made him feel both protected and wanted at once.

A couple of times, he glanced at Snape over the rim of his coffee cup and was caught in a hungry gaze that he was sure matched his own. Snape's hands were trembling as he sipped his coffee and Harry realised that the normally stoic Potions master was having similar trouble to Harry's.

"May I use your bathroom, Severus?" asked Madam Pomfrey, setting her cup down on the end table next to the sofa, moving a few parchments out of the way first.

"Of course, second door on the left," replied Snape with a smile and waved her off. He turned to Harry with a wicked grin. "Alone at last," he growled, moving even further towards Harry on the sofa. The leather creaked and Harry thought he might faint. Was it getting rather hot in here? He swallowed and moved slightly away from the other man. All the blood in his body seemed to have settled heavily in his groin and he had to bite a back a moan. Snape hadn't even touched him and already Harry was aflame.

"May I kiss you?" whispered Snape huskily.

"Is - is kissing allowed?" panted Harry, his eyes darting to the closed bathroom door. What if Madam Pomfrey came in and caught them snogging on the sofa?

"Kissing is allowed," said Snape, his eyes never once leaving Harry's. "That's why Madam Pomfrey has kindly left us alone for a few minutes."

"Okay," said Harry relieved, it was just kissing. He'd been kissed before by Cho Chang, he could handle a few kisses, couldn't he?

"Lie back," said Snape softly, sliding from the sofa and sinking to his knees beside it. Harry stared at him, but did what the man asked of him, staring up at the ceiling. He was perspiring heavily and almost jumped out of his skin when he felt Snape's hands on his face, stroking his lips. "Gods, you're so beautiful, Harry," sighed Snape as he leaned forward over Harry, pressing his lips hard against Harry's.

Harry could no more have stopped the moan of need than he could have stopped the sun from rising each morning. He was wrong. He was not prepared for kisses like this. The man wasn't just kissing him, he was claiming him and Harry's body arched up almost of its own accord. Oh, God, he was so hard. Feeling Snape's mouth on his, the wet slurping sounds were almost enough to undo him. Snape still held his head in a firm grip and Harry concentrated on that, trying to keep himself grounded. He felt as though he might float away at any moment.

Snape's mouth finally left his and Harry whimpered at the loss. It changed to a relieved grunt when he felt Snape trailing kisses down his cheeks and onto his neck, licking the hollow of his throat. Harry moaned and closed his eyes just as a soft cough was heard from the direction of the bathroom door.

His eyes snapped open and Snape stood up, releasing his hold on Harry. Harry scrambled to sit back up on the sofa again, totally mortified. He tugged his shirt down over his thighs, knowing that it probably did little to hide his erection and he just knew his face was red.

"Severus, I think it's time Harry went back to his dorm, don't you?"

"Yes, Poppy. Very well."

Harry stood up on shaky legs and Snape helped him to the door, holding his elbow. He felt so lightheaded by the time they reached the door, he was sure he was going to swoon like a heroine from some Muggle romance novel.

"Goodnight, Harry," said Snape, smiling down at him and trailing his hand across Harry's face.

"Goodnight, Severus," said Harry, standing on tip toe and giving Snape a soft peck on the cheek, aware that Madam Pomfrey was still looking that them. "Thank you for a wonderful evening." He glanced over his shoulder at the medi-witch and uttered a hasty goodnight to her as well and left the dungeons.

***

Snape turned round and sighed, his hand tracing his cheek where Harry had kissed him. Poppy was glaring at him, her arms folded over her chest, her tongue making an annoyed clucking sound. "Really, Severus! What would have happened if I hadn't returned when I did?"

"Nothing, we were just kissing."

"Just kissing my eye! It isn't very fair on, Harry, is it?"

"What? He said I could kiss him."

"I don't mean that. I mean getting the poor boy so worked up and then not being able to do anything about it. He's seventeen years old, his hormones are all over the place and you took advantage to do more than you should have done when you know neither of you could go any further. If you want me to continue chaperoning, I want your assurance that nothing like that will happen again."

Snape stared at her. Was it true? Had he taken advantage of Harry to try and push the boy just that little bit further? There was no denying that Harry had enjoyed his kisses and attentions, but maybe he should have stopped them sooner.

"I'm sorry, Poppy. It won't happen again, I don't know what came over me."

"I do," smiled Poppy. "It's called love."

***

Over the next month, Harry went out to dinner with Snape to Hogsmeade and London as well as having dinner with him in the man's quarters. On weekends, Harry had special permission from the headmaster, as did any other courting couples who had a chaperone, to go on outings with his intended. They went to art galleries, museums, even a Muggle funfair once. Harry had never been to one before and he couldn't stop smiling the whole day.

They didn't kiss again, Madam Pomfrey was like a guard dog and wouldn't let both of them wander off anywhere alone, but she did let them hold hands, which they did quite frequently.

On the thirtieth of November, Harry sat cross-legged on his bed, quill in hand, parchment across his lap trying to find the right words to say to accept Snape's betrothal. Hermione had already told him that all he needed to write was _I accept your suit_. But that just seemed far too impersonal to Harry, he wanted to write something that came from his heart, the only problem was that his heart didn't seem to want to co-operate today. He was hopeless at poetry. He sucked the end of the quill, thought, then thought some more. When Ron pulled back his curtains to call him for breakfast, Harry was still frantically scribbling away. He spelled the parchment and tucked it into his schoolbag, ready to give to Snape tonight.

***

"Severus, stop pacing, you're going to wear a hole in the floor," Poppy told him. "He'll be here, don't worry."

Harry would come to dinner, yes, but would Harry still want to be bonded to him? The past month had been one of bliss for Severus Snape, but what about Harry? Had he finally come to his senses and realised that he wouldn't be happy being saddled to such a damaged old man?

When Harry finally knocked on his door that evening, Snape felt sure that his heart actually stopped beating for a few moments. He was here. He was really here. Harry wanted this as much as he did, otherwise he would have been sending a letter with his rejection, rather than telling him face to face.

Snape flung open the door, only for his blood to turn to ice in is veins. There was a cream envelope clutched in Harry's hand, he could see _Severus Snape_ in cursive handwriting on the front. Oh. Rejection it was then.

"Mr. Potter, come in," said Snape, being deliberately formal. Harry looked surprised but entered the room anyway.

"I - I wanted to give you this," said the boy who'd managed to steal his heart and crush it, all in the space of the past month. Snape wished he'd never started the blasted process in the first place. When would he ever learn? Happiness was not for him. It never was and he crushed the emotions so far down his chest he thought he was drowning in them.

Madam Pomfrey smiled and greeted Harry while Snape ripped the envelope open with his thumb. Best to get it over with as quickly as possible. His whole body trembled as he read what was on the parchment. The parchment was wet but it was a few moments before he realised it was with his own tears.

_I want my love to be all yours  
To you my heart I give  
With you I want to be always  
Without you I can't live_

_I want to share your secret thoughts  
And all your hopes and fears  
To help you when you need it  
To kiss away your tears_

_Is this true, can it really be?  
Are you the one  
Who dreams the same dreams as me?_

_Love forever,  
Harry._

_P.S. In case I wasn't very clear, I accept your suit._

 

Snape looked at the boy standing nervously by his side, he was a shimmery blur through his tears. Harry looked like a scared dog afraid that he was going to be kicked by his master. What courage it must have taken to not only write such thoughts down, but to bare them to him. Harry had bared his soul, he realised, and was now waiting to see if Snape was going to do the same.

"Harry, that poem was beautiful," Snape said, his voice little more than a croak. "No-one has every written me poetry before. I never thought I would be one who would inspire anything more than ridicule, certainly I never expected poetry to be written to me. Thank you." He bent down and kissed Harry chastely on the cheek, mindful as ever of Poppy hovering in the background.

"Really?" asked Harry, as eager as any puppy. "You really thought it was good? I didn't think I would be any good at poetry."

"It's beautiful," Snape repeated, although the words hardly conveyed the depth of his feelings on it. Harry had written a poem to _him_. He could almost taste the young man's passion as he'd written it. How could any poem fail to move when it was written with such fervour? "So, you're saying you want to tie yourself to a man over twice your age?"

"I do," grinned Harry.

"Well, in that case, I have a present for you too." Snape moved to the table, already set for three, and retrieved the carved wooden box sitting on top of it. He handed the box to Harry, who couldn't seem to decide whether to stare at Snape or the box more. "Open it then," urged Snape, the suspense getting too much for his old heart to handle.

Harry opened the box and Snape saw the boy's eyes lit up at what he saw inside. "Oh, Severus! They're gorgeous! Are they both for me?" Harry trailed a finger softly over the jewellery inside.

"They're bonding bracelets," said Snape. "We both wear one." Snape edged closer to Harry and took one of the bracelets out of its velvet bed. The gold bracelets had been in the Snape family for generations and Snape had at one time despaired that he would ever find anyone to share them with. As the last of his line, he really ought to have been thinking about settling down with a nice witch and raising lots of little Snapes, but his inclinations had never run that way.

Each bracelet was etched with tiny scenes from history and they were both set with six diamonds apiece. They were worth a small fortune, but Snape had no qualms about giving Harry such a gift. "Here, let me," Snape undid the clasp and placed the bracelet around Harry's wrist. They both shuddered at the same time, sensing their power trying to merge. Harry's hands were still trembling when Snape dropped them. Harry reached inside for the other bracelet and placed it reverently on Snape's arm, power crackling like electricity between them. Snape so wanted to taste that which was still forbidden. Harry's breath caught in his throat and he stared avidly at Snape, licking his lips with a soft swipe of tongue. Severus stifled a moan and was glad he'd worn robes tonight.

Madam Pomfrey coughed loudly behind them. "Gentlemen, your dinner is getting cold!"

Harry and Snape both chuckled, the tension of the past few moments dissipating as if it had never been.

Snape extended his elbow, Harry latched onto his arm and they took their seats at the table, their first meal as  
a betrothed couple.

***

Harry groaned and pressed his feverish head against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl. Nice toilet. Ron was being a sympathetic friend, cooling Harry's brow with a wet flannel and keeping Harry's hair out of the way each time Harry had to void the contents of his stomach yet again. Of course, Harry might have been more appreciative of those gestures if it hadn't been the fault of Ron's brothers that he was in this predicament in the first place.

Current predicament being bent over the Weasleys' toilet, puking up everything he'd ever eaten and a head feeling as if he'd just come off worst in a fight with a mountain troll. And fifty of his friends.

"I can't believe you let Fred and George get the drinks!" Harry moaned weakly. "You know what those two are like!"

"Sorry, Harry. They promised they wouldn't do anything _too_ bad."

If this was what the Weasley twins considered _not too bad_ , Harry was just glad that his stag party was finally over. What had possessed him to agree to let Fred and George organise it? He just hoped he hadn't done anything too stupid in his drunken state, as he could hardly remember a thing about it. The strongest drink Harry had ever had before was a shot of brandy his Aunt Petunia had given him once when he'd had a terrible cold. In hindsight, he probably should have brought his own flask and drank from that all evening.

"Oh, God," groaned Harry. "Snape's going to kill me! I promised I wouldn't get drunk."

"It's not your fault, Harry," said Ron, smoothing his brow again. "How were you to know that they were going to spike your butterbeer?"

Ah, there was the rub. Harry should have known, he should have suspected the twins might do it, he should have used the spell Snape had taught him to check food and drink to see if it had been tampered with. He had been an idiot, pure and simple.

"What did they give me anyway?" asked Harry just as there was a knock on the bathroom door. Ron went to answer it, talking in muffled voices with someone in the hallway. He returned bearing gifts, or in this case a potion bottle.

"It's from Snape," said Ron, handing Harry the bottle. "He said you might need it after last night."

Snape knew? Knew what happened and brewed him a potion? Harry looked at it warily and cast the spell he should have cast last night. The potion was what it appeared to be; a hangover cure. Harry downed a few sips and almost at once his headache and the nausea receded. There was also something a little extra that Harry was sure Snape had added just for him. Harry felt euphoric, almost as if he was floating and he grinned madly at Ron. "Wow! Snape really knows his stuff!"

"Of course he does!" laughed Ron. "He's a Potions master. Come one, let's get you ready." Ron knelt down and hefted Harry up from the floor with his arms underneath Harry's armpits and tugged. It still constantly amazed Harry how strong Ron was. He was a head taller than Snape now and Harry felt dwarfed compared to both of them.

Ron helped Harry back to Ron's bedroom, where Harry's wedding robes were waiting. Everything was in a shade of powder blue; a v-necked tunic with laces at the collar, a pair of trousers with a button fly and an over robe which just about skimmed his ankles. Snape's outfit would be the same, except his would be in a darker shade, with him being the older groom.

"Are you nervous?" asked Ron as he helped Harry to dress. Ron and Hermione had been married straight out of school and Hermione was already three months pregnant with their first child. It seemed the Weasley genes were as keen to spread than ever and Harry stifled a grin.

"A bit," he admitted. "I mean, it's not every day you get married, is it?"

"I don't mean about the wedding," said Ron, turning pink. "I meant about - you know - the sex."

Harry laughed. "Ronald Weasley, are you asking me about my love life?"

"I was just curious, with you both being two blokes and all. I mean what do you actually _do_?"

Harry was rather curious himself. He and Snape hadn't had a moment alone to discuss things, Harry really only had a very vague idea of what two men could do together. "I don't really know much about it myself, Ron, if you must know. But I love him and he loves me, so hopefully the rest will work it itself out."

"Of course it will," said Ron briskly, patting down Harry's robes, smoothing out non-existent creases. "You'll knock him dead, Harry."

***

Harry barely remembered the ceremony, he knew he'd said some words, so did Snape and then Dumbledore had bound both their hands with a ribbon and announced that they were now bonded. Everyone agreed that the wedding had everything a good wedding should have; there were speeches and cake, drunk relatives making fools of themselves on the dancefloor and two grooms who ... seemed to have disappeared from the dance floor.

"Ron, where's Harry?" asked Hermione as she glanced back over her shoulder at the other couples dancing.

"He was over there dancing with ... Oh, Snape's gone too."

The both looked knowingly at each other and burst into fits of giggles.

"Those randy sods!" said Ron once he'd got his breath back.

***

"Severus, where are you taking me?" asked Harry as Snape dragged him along with a firm grip on his hand. Not that Harry was complaining, far from it. Ever since their first dance, with Snape pressed so close against him, Harry had been achingly hard for his new husband and he could hardly wait until their wedding night. It was even a little difficult to walk in his condition and he wondered if Snape knew what he could do to Harry with just a smouldering look.

They had arrived in the Weasleys' orchard, the most private place on the property and Harry felt his heart speed up in his chest. Snape pushed Harry none too gently up against the trunk of a tree and proceeded to kiss Harry breathless. They both moaned at the same time and Harry wrapped his arms around Snape's back, holding him in place. Snape rocked his hips and Harry could feel the man's erection next to his, Harry rubbed back equally frenzied. Oh, God, this was so good, so unexpected and he never wanted it to stop.

Snape pulled away from the kiss, bending low to nibble on Harry's ear and whisper wanton words inside it. "I can hardly wait to be inside you, Harry. Tonight can't come soon enough. You're so perfect. I want to feel you squeeze around me as you come. Do you want that? I want to fill you. Do you want to feel my come inside you?"

Harry's knees buckled and he almost slid down the length of the tree at the man's words. He wanted that and more. Harry arched his head for more kisses and his husband obliged until Harry was lost in a haze of sensation. He was sure he must have been floating at one point. Could you die from too much pleasure? "Gods, Harry, I so want to taste you. I can't wait until tonight, will you let me?"

"T- taste me?" gasped Harry as the man licked his neck. He wasn't quite sure what the older man meant. Snape's hand skimmed down his chest, caressing his hips and then Snape cupped Harry's erection in his hand. 

"This Harry, I want to taste this."

"Oh God!" moaned Harry. "Yes, please, oh please!"

Snape wasted no time in undoing Harry's buttons and then he sank to his knees in front of Harry, his mouth so close to where Harry wanted it, yet not close enough. Harry could feel himself leaking, could feel every little puff of breath ghosting over his hard length as Snape just knelt there for a few moments, his eyes searching out Harry's, as though still seeking for permission. "Severus!" Harry wailed. "Oh, please!" He needed, God how he needed and Snape was just staring at him, as if he'd never seen anything as wonderful in his life as an aroused and desperate Harry.

Maybe Snape realised how desperate he was or maybe he just decided to be merciful, for the next moment Harry was introduced to the bliss of having his husband's wet, hot mouth wrapped around his aching prick. Harry yelped and tried to keep himself still, the urge to thrust was almost overwhelming and he didn't want to choke Snape.

"Severus, oh God, Severus," Harry panted over and over like a prayer.

His own hand had never felt as wonderful as this, the suction, the noises he and Snape were both making, Harry was dizzy and mindless with desire. He knew if it hadn't been for his husband's hands holding firm to his hips he would have fallen to the leaf littered ground long since.

Snape was sucking and licking all around the tip, swallowing Harry's copious dribbles of precome as though it was nectar and Harry moaned at the sight of that dark head swallowing him whole. "Ahh!" Harry groaned. "I'm gonna come!" He tried to tug Snape away from his groin as he felt the impending orgasm. But Snape would not relinquish his prize, just sucked even harder and batted Harry's hands away from his head. Oh, God - he wanted, Snape wanted Harry to come in his mouth. That thought was almost enough to undo him.

Harry shuddered and groaned, scraping his hands back behind him on the trunk of the tree, the first tremors of his orgasm ripping through him, releasing pulse after pulse of seed into his husband's delicious mouth. "Severus!" screamed Harry as the final jolt left him almost breathless and trembling.

Snape kept suckling him, making sure to get every drop until Harry had gone completely limp again. Harry's knees and thighs felt as though they would not support him for much longer. Snape released Harry's prick with a small pop and gazed up at his husband, his eyes still smouldering like banked coals. Harry felt another small tremor go through him at that look and a small spurt of semen flew from his prick to land on the soft earth and Harry almost fell, before he felt Snape's strong arms around him, supporting him.

Snape turned his head, kissing Harry and Harry could taste himself on the man's tongue, slightly bitter, but with an underlying sweetness too. Harry eagerly pushed his tongue in Snape's mouth for more, surprised how much he enjoyed the shared taste of he and Snape. Just as Harry was beginning to harden again, Snape pulled away from their kiss.

"I suppose we ought to get back to the party," suggested Snape.

"But you haven't..." said Harry.

Snape laughed and bent low to whisper in his ear. "Why, Mr. Potter, are you suggesting that the first time I take you it should be here, in the middle of the orchard where anyone can come and see us?"

Heat flared low in Harry's belly and he grinned at his new husband. "I wouldn't mind," he admitted.

Snape laughed and kissed Harry's hair. "I still think we ought to leave that until we are back at the Manor and are guaranteed some privacy," Snape moved his head lower and swooped in for another kiss. "But there are still other things we might do."

***

It was half an hour later before they managed to tear themselves away from each other. It was as if that now once he'd actually discovered how good things were with Snape, Harry didn't want to do anything else. In that small space of time, Snape had brought Harry to two more orgasms by both of them rubbing their hips frantically against each other, Snape had managed one. Harry was all for going again, but Snape reminded him softly that he was older and wanted to save something for their wedding night so Harry reluctantly agreed.

When they returned to the party, the only people who seemed to notice they were gone were Ron and Hermione, everyone was too drunk or too involved with each other to care. They kept winking and leering at Harry whenever Snape's back was turned and Harry realised, flushing, that those two knew exactly what he and Snape had been up to. He probably did look a bit dishevelled despite their cleaning spells and a few times, Snape removed leaves from Harry's hair, smiling in reminiscence. Harry's lips felt sore and swollen from Snape's kisses, but not sore enough that he would forgo them if any more were on offer later.

As dusk fell, Harry and Snape took their positions by the Weasleys' door to say their farewells to everyone. The wedding party would continue without them, but dusk was the traditional time when the newlyweds left to begin their new life together and Harry could hardly wait. "Ready, Harry?" asked Snape as he took Harry's elbow, gazing deep into his husband's eyes. Harry nodded and Snape Apparated them both straight into the master bedroom at Snape Manor.

Sitting in the middle of the enormous four poster bed was a rectangular box with the legend _Intimate Secrets_ in curlicued gold writing. Harry turned round to his husband, beaming.

"I hope you didn't mind, Harry. I got you a present. I hoped you might wear it tonight? You don't have to, just if you want."

***

Snape's heart was beating far too loudly in his chest. Ever since he'd discovered that Harry enjoyed dressing up in girls' lingerie, he'd been haunted by the fact that he was dying to see Harry in some. He just hoped he hadn't gone too far by buying Harry something. He loved Harry no matter what he wore, but he would like to see his young husband dressed in lace and silk, even if it was just once.

Harry bounded onto the bed like an eager puppy and lifted the lid of the box. "Oh, Severus, it's beautiful!"

He gave Snape a sultry look, fluttering his eyelashes, but then totally ruining the effect by giggling madly.

"Sorry, Severus, I'm just so happy. Thank you. Can you turn around while I change? I want you too see the full effect."

"Very well," mumbled Snape and turned, his stomach a hard knot of anticipation. Not to mention other parts of him, much lower down. Severus used the time to remove his own clothes, leaving him standing naked in the room.

"Okay, you can look now," said Harry a few moments later.

Snape turned and stared at his new husband, his mouth agape. Harry was a vision in a white night dress, a satin bodice flared out into a shimmering see through fabric that skimmed the boy's thighs. His cock was already tenting the dress and Snape sucked in a few deep breaths. "It's beautiful on you, Harry. How does it feel?"

"It tickles a little, every time I move, the fabric rubs against me. I want you to feel me through it, will you, Severus? Will you touch me through it?"

Snape didn't need a second invitation. He stalked to Harry in two strides, tugging the boy against him and claiming his mouth in a heated kiss, before tumbling both of them back onto the bed. Soon Harry was squirming, wriggling, writhing on the bed with need and Snape knew he could not last much longer. He skimmed his hands down Harry's chest, enjoying the little hitching breaths Harry made as he caressed him through the silk and lace. Snape bypassed Harry's cock altogether, he tucked the cloth out of the way and dipped his fingers lower, caressing the skin around Harry's buttocks and he mewled in pleasure.

"Oh, Severus, please!"

"What do you want, Harry?" Snape pressed a kiss to Harry's inner thigh, his legs fell open almost of their own accord.

"In me, God, I want you in me!"

"Your wish is my command," smirked Snape and fumbled for the oil on the bedside table. His own hands were shaking as he smoothed the oil over his fingers, his cock begging to be buried inside that warm flesh. Harry tensed up as soon as Snape breached him with one finger, a startled cry coming from his new husband. "Ssh, Harry, it'll be all right. Bear down around my finger, that's it, that's it," Snape soothed as he began to stroke Harry's cock through the silky fabric with his other hand, trying to use pleasure to distract him from the pain.

He kept Harry on the edge for a while before adding another finger, this time, Snape found the right angle to hit Harry's prostate and the boy almost arched off the bed in his pleasure, squealing madly. He was begging for more by the time Snape had three fingers in him. Harry's obvious arousal and enjoyment were having an effect on Snape and he was more than ready for the next stage, but he waited until Harry cried out.

"Severus! Enough! Inside me! Inside me!" he begged, bucking his hips and howling, his hands fisted in the bedclothes.

"It'll probably be easier for you if you're on your hands and knees," said Snape, wanting to reduce the amount of pain Harry might feel. Harry scrambled into position, kneeling on the bed, but he used his hands to brace himself against the headboard.

"Will it hurt?" asked Harry, as he glanced at Snape back over his shoulder.

"A little," admitted Snape. "I'll try and be careful, Harry. I don't want to hurt you."

"I know, Severus," smiled Harry and blew him a kiss, wobbling a bit as he removed one hand from the headboard.

Snape coated his erection with a generous helping of oil, stroking Harry's entrance again with an oiled finger to make sure he was more than ready. Snape pulled up the skirt of the nightdress, laying it flat against Harry's back, leaving his bottom exposed to his gaze. He caressed Harry's back through the material, enjoying Harry's hiss of pleasure before he slid home, gripping Harry's hips firmly in his fingers. He thought there might be bruises there tomorrow. Harry was everything he had imagined. So hot. So tight and Snape had to take a few deep breaths to prevent himself from thrusting frantically into that soft welcome heat.

***

The fingers had prepared Harry well but nothing could have prepared him for how he felt, knowing that it was Snape's cock inside him. Snape inside him. He leaned his head against the headboard and groaned as he was stretched almost to breaking point. 

"God, Severus, move!" insisted Harry, clenching his buttocks and rewarded with a throaty groan from the man embedded in him. Snape began thrusting in earnest then, Harry held onto the headboard. It was rattling against the wall from the force of their movement and when he felt Snape reach a hand round to stroke his cock, he was lost, coming almost immediately, soaking the front of the nightdress, gasping and bucking wildly. "Severus!" he screamed as the aftershocks tore through him. His toes curled into the blankets beneath him, his knuckles turning white as he grabbed the headboard. 

Snape gripped his hips and bucked inside Harry, spilling himself a mere moment after Harry. The sensation was strange, to feel Snape's seed inside him like that, but not unpleasant. Harry leaned his head against the headboard, as Snape leant his head on Harry's neck. The two of them stayed like that for a while, getting their breath back, before Snape slid out of him. 

Snape tugged Harry down on the bed and embraced him, kissing Harry's face all over. "I love you," he whispered against Harry's lips. 

"I love you too," responded Harry, reaching up and pushing Snape's hair away from his forehead. "So that's what I was missing, eh?" Harry felt as if he was floating somewhere up near the ceiling and his legs seemed to have turned to jelly. He didn't think he'd be able to move. 

"Did you mind? The waiting, I mean." 

"I was a little frustrated sometimes, but I'm glad we waited. It made our first time seem so much more special, don't you think? A wedding night to remember." Harry snuggled in close and rested his head on Snape's chest. 

"What are you doing?" asked Snape with an indulgent grin. 

"Snuggling," mumbled Harry through a yawn. 

"I do not snuggle," stated Snape indignantly and tried to move away, but Harry's grip on his waist prevented it. 

"Don't worry, Severus, I won't tell anyone." 

"Hhmph," snorted Snape, but he no longer moved away. As Harry felt himself drift off to sleep, he felt Snape sink lower on the bed, resting his head on the pillows and resting his hands on Harry's lower back. 

Harry grinned to himself. No, Snape may not be a snuggler, but he was definitely a cuddler. 

Definitely. 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


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